goodbye my wayward son ; mars [zombie au]

MARS NOVAK

Mars has gotten used to the smell.

The stench of rot and decaying flesh bogged the air. Not that the smell of the city was much better before all of...this, the apocalypse, happened. Before factories peppered the city, heavy, dark clouds of smoke seeped through their dismal design and blanketed the skies. You were considered lucky if you didn't choke to death on it.

But now, the blue of the sky is on full display. You can even watch the stars dance at night. It's funny, he thinks, that all it took for the city to look beautiful again was for everyone to die.

Poetic, in a way. Nature being stripped bare of its resources, using them to poison to the earth itself, and then nature becoming the downfall of humanity.

Maybe it's what we they deserved, he thinks, his head peering down and staring at the cracked cobblestone road. It's a barren landscape, spare the few empty cars and the occasional groan of the undead. Most who were in a car or able to get to one when it all went down sped out of the city like a bat out of hell and never looked backed.

Mars, well, he was never that lucky.

Bounced around from home to home his entire life, spent some nights baring the harsh wind biting at his skin by an underpass, but that was life, right? It's not fair, you stick with the cards you're dealt, there's no second hand. He's become content with that reality, far before the dead walked the ground. And hell, he thinks the apocalypse is the luckiest thing to ever happen to him. He's never had a place to call home, but now he can lay claim to this entire concrete jungle.